


Lonely Creatures

by chaosLydia



Category: Cabin Pressure, Frankenstein - Nick Dear
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosLydia/pseuds/chaosLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin accidentally crash lands GERTI in the wilderness and meets someone who will change his life for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't specify whether this was Benedict Cumberbatch or Johnny Lee Miller's creature. That's up to you.

Captain Martin Crieff knew that food in Canada was different than what he was used to. But he was fairly sure that whatever meat was on the dish in front of him probably wasn’t actually meat. Well, maybe it was a walrus. Were walruses grey? He used to watch a cartoon walrus as a kid, but it was brown. It was probably best not to chance food poisoning before a flight. He really should be used to Carolyn putting them in hotels with terrible food choices. 

Pushing the plate away, he leaned in his chair and glanced up to the television in the dining area. The news shifted from the local weather in Newfoundland to a feature story. The anchorwoman perked up her voice to an overly cheery tone, “It’s one of the wealthiest brands in the world, but by far one of the most mysterious. Devil Moon Designs is considered the best of the best when it comes to handmade furniture. Established almost two hundred years ago, the company expanded in the age of the internet. Only the elite, people like the royal family of Britain and a handful of celebrities, can afford the work of this artist. But even through all these years, the company remains secretive. The current owner has never released his name or an image of himself. He has only been heard by a few clients. It is known that the company is based out of Canada, but the exact location-“

“Looking to redecorate?” a voice interrupted the story. Douglas Richardson, Martin’s first officer, sat in the seat across from him. He was an older man with a tongue smoother than velvet that annoyed the living daylights out of Martin. Once a captain himself, Douglas constantly believed himself right, and in Martin’s eyes, he always wanted to shove all the work on the younger man.

Martin poked his discarded meal with a fork, “Just killing time, really. I would have thought that Arthur and Carolyn would be here by now.” Suddenly, he snapped his head up. “Oh God. Oh God, oh God… Carolyn is only late like this when she’s rescheduling us.”

“Right you are, sir,” Douglas lightly clapped his hands together in a sarcastic celebration of Martin’s deduction. “Instead of going back to Fitton, we have become the bearers of a rather large wood carving of a bear.”

“A bear?”

“To Barrow, Alaska. Apparently they’re having some party and need a bear,” Douglas finished.

“A bear carving to Barrow?” Martin’s voice broke. “Arthur must be piddling himself in excitement. But we can’t go to Barrow! I have a job tomorrow with my van. I can’t miss this.”

Douglas frowned sympathetically, “I’m sorry, Martin. It seems that Carolyn has already pushed through the paperwork. We’re going to be flying out soon. She wanted me to come tell you. If you want, you can borrow my mobile and see if you can reschedule.”

“That would actually be really great. I don’t have service on mine,” Martin accepted his first officer’s phone and hopped up. Stepping outside where it was quieter, he wondered if anyone actually cared about his need to work back home.  
____________________________________________________________________________________  
He named himself Adam a long time ago. If his creator wanted to be God, then he might as well be Adam. It was an improvement over “the creature” or “monster.” 

About two hundred years ago, he traveled to the new world. He didn’t actually mean to end up here. The constant journey of leading while his master pursued ended up here.  
They crossed over the North Pole and continued south on the other side. Finally, the journey proved too much for Victor Frankenstein. At the bottom of ridge in the wilderness of this land called Canada, Victor drew his last breath in the arms of his creation. His poor lost soul was left to whatever was in the afterlife.

Adam couldn’t bear to leave his master’s side. After burying Victor, Adam had taken in his surroundings. It was relatively flat area but surrounded with trees. Nearby was a stream that could provide water and fish for him. The cold had never bothered him. Here he would start his new lonesome life.

Much had changed for Adam in that time. A small town had popped up nearby. It was easy to get to by snowmobile if he needed anything. And people in this day and age seemed much more tolerant than the peasants in Geneva so long ago. With technology, he was able to make upgrades to the cabin he built. Through solar panels and wind energy, he powered his home allowing him to enjoy the things he come to love so much such as his record player. His additions outside helped his comfortable life as well. He added on a workshop about twenty years ago to craft larger items to sell. Over the years, he had been bored and took up hobbies to pass the time. Once he realized he could make furniture, trading with those in town became his staple to make money. Adam saved up enough funds to add a greenhouse in his backyard. His succulent fruits and vegetables were a hit in town where fresh produce came few and far in between.

But not just his living situation had evolved over time. Adam’s physical appearance changed too. His master must have been a God in a way. Adam found that slowly his cells continued to reanimate and heal over time. The sutures that originally held his body together fell out long ago leaving behind scarred but intact skin. Maybe that’s why people were more tolerant now. He didn’t look like a jigsaw mess, but more like he had some unfortunate accident in his younger days. His strength never faltered over the years, but he could tell he was getting older. Faint age lines had appeared recently, but he still never look over the age of thirty five. Even a lot of his hair eventually grew in, though he missed patches here and there. He mostly kept it covered with a hat.

Adam stepped out of his workshop for the night and stretched towards the sky. The moon peaked over the ridge spilling its light on the snow around him. Gazing up, he sighed breaking the silence. Even with technology like the internet where he could talk to anyone in the world, he was still such a lonely creature like the solitary moon above him.  
____________________________________________________________________________________  
Martin squinted against the setting sun. Artic flights like this were always the worse. He had flown them before, and each time was never better. “You would think that Carolyn would wait thirty minutes to make sure we could actually see to fly!”

“Well the thing about her, old chap, is she’s never actually flown a plane,” Douglas shook his head. “We might as well do like last time and try and slow down. Then the sun can set, and we’ll be much happier pilots.”

“No, we’re actually on a set schedule,” Martin checked their time. “Do you think we could fly a little lower to avoid the sun?”

Picking up a folder, Douglas checked the weather report, “There would be an awful lot of turbulence. Looks like there’s a storm ahead just below us. You could risk it.”

“GERTI would never hold up in a snow storm,” Martin gripped the wheel a bit tighter. “We’ll just have to continue on as we are.” He shook his head to try and regain his focus. He hadn’t been able to reschedule his job for tomorrow losing what would be his food money. Maybe if he chatted with the dorm supervisor, he could be a bit short on rent this month just enough to get groceries. Speaking of food…

Martin smirked, “People who have food names: Stephen Fry.”

“Good one!” Douglas pursed his lips together. “This is going to be tough… Oh! Fiona Apple.”

“Kevin Bacon.”

“You’ve been preparing this game for a while, haven’t you Martin?”

“Maybe.”

Douglas tapped his chin for a moment, “Christina Applegate.” 

“Halle Ber-“

A blast echoed through the plane as all of the alarms shrilled into life. GERTI shuttered around them as her metal body squealed under the pressure.

“Christ!” Martin gripped the wheel trying to keep the old plane steady.

“Fire in the number one engine, Captain!” Douglas cried out the checks.

“Normal fire procedures! How did- We’re too high for a bird strike!”

“The thrust level is malfunctioning and will not close! Fuel control switch is malfunctioning. Fuel still flowing into engine!” A look passed Douglas’ face. It was one that Martin had never seen in the man he secretly admired so much. It was unabashed fear. They were on fire and going down. The nearest airport was over a hundred miles away. “Do you have control, Captain?”

“Yes!” Martin bit his lip. He prayed that Arthur and Carolyn weren’t tumbling about in the back. At this rate, the plane could break on impact. Carolyn was old and Arthur was…well, Arthur. “Douglas! Go back into the cabin and strap in with the others!”

“Martin-!”

“That is an order from your Captain!” He lowered his voice to be barely heard above the sirens, “They’re going to need your help. I… I have control.”

Douglas inhaled slowly knowing that Martin was right. But it didn’t make it easier to leave his young companion. Rubbing his shoulder, Douglas gazed at his brave friend. He squeezed Martin’s shoulder trying to keep his hands steady. With that, he unbuckled himself and teetered back into the cabin.

They were losing altitude and dipped into the snow storm. Martin flipped on the radio, “Mayday, mayday! Gulf-Echo-Romeo-Tango-India! We have one engine on fire and unable to extinguish-“

Another explosion rocked the plane as more bells screeched in the cockpit.

“Both engines are now on fire! We are losing altitude and… and…”

We’re going to crash…

“Mayday, mayday! There are four crew members on board! We are at 4000 feet!”

No one answered him back.

They emerged under the storm. Even with the snow, Martin could see the dark mass below them that could only be the ground. Switching over to the cabin radio, he tried to keep his voice steady as possible, “You three need to be buckled up back there! Brace yourselves!”

GERTI groaned under the pressure as Martin tried to keep her steady from a straight nosedive. He flipped the radio back over hoping anyone could hear him, “Mayday! We are at 2500 feet and falling! Please send help! We are going down! Both engines on fire!”

They say that your life flashes before your eyes in times like this. But Martin didn’t consider his family in these moments…

“2000 feet!”

He never got along with his siblings. His father thought his dream was a waste and never saw him become a pilot…

“1…1000 feet…”

His mother surely loved him, but Martin wasn’t as successful as his brother and sister. Why would his mother ever pay more attention to him than she had to?

“500 feet.”

The people who crossed his mind in these final moments were the three people in the cabin that he was fighting so hard to protect in this moment.

Spotting a clearing in the trees, Martin screamed out and veered GERTI towards it. The ridge was steep, but he could possibly avoid killing them all if he could land GERTI on it.  
He squeezed his eyes shut only moments before impact.  
__________________________________________________________________________________  
Adam rose from tending his garden. A rumble shook the glass panels of his greenhouse. It was far too loud to be thunder. Through the clear roof, he spotted a flickering light in the clouds. A plane swooped down far too low to be safe. Both of its wings glowed violently with fire. Adam’s mouth hung open as it grew closer to his home.  
It suddenly veered sharply away. Slamming into the ridge, it slid up the bend and turned with its tale facing the sky. The back of the plane rose up over the bank. Even from this distance, Adam heard the loud groan of the metal. The weight was far too much for the plane to handle.  
It split in two. The cabin of the plane continued to slide away and over the top of the ridge. Adam gasped. Recalling the trails he used while hunting, there was a slope on the other side where one could see the town in the distance. The cabin vanished out of sight down that steep hill.  
At the split, the cockpit slowed for a moment appearing that it might balance at the top. But the round nose of the plane slipped on the rock. Rolling back down the ridge, it crashed into the trees only several hundred yards from his house.  
Adam flung open the door of the greenhouse and sprinted to his workshop. He pulled out his snowmobile and hopped on. Though he had no clue if there was anyone in the cabin of the plane, the cockpit always had at least a pilot. He prayed as he sped that way that whoever was flying would still be alive.  
__________________________________________________________________________________  
Martin never thought that death was both warm and cold at the same time. He could feel a sticky and wet heat on his face and his leg. At least he could still feel his leg in death. Both of them actually. It would be a shame to not be able to walk through the pearly gates of Heaven. St. Peter would probably make fun of him and use Douglas’ voice to do it. He could feel both of his hands, his arms, his chest. Though, his chest and stomach ached with a deep dull pain.

But the rest of his body still felt cold. He could hear the wind whistling gently around him. Maybe in his version of Heaven, he would have a bit of a breeze to fly in. He wouldn’t want his perfect plane to have perfect conditions all the time. Martin loved a bit of a challenge in flight.

A bit of snow slipped off the broken metal around him and plopped on his cheek. Cringing, he slowly opened his eyes. So he wasn’t dead, but he certainly didn’t know where he was. That was a lie. He was still in GERTI… sort of. Though he was still strapped to his pilot’s chair, Martin knew there wasn’t much more of the plane behind him. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. Above him, the widows had been shattered and the snow fluttered around him. 

And pass that far above was the sky he loved so much. He couldn’t tell if the sun had fully set a few minutes ago or hours. Blinking several time, Martin had trouble focusing on the clouds.

He loved clouds. As a child, he wanted to touch one. Fog never counted. Though it was a type of cloud, it wasn’t up in the air. 

Ignoring the pain passing through his limb and chest, Martin reached up as far as he could. He wanted to touch those clouds. He needed it.

Another hand appeared. The fingers reached out and slid across his open palm. Strong fingers slipped between Martin’s and gripped his hand. Turning his head, Martin could barely make out a person.

His eyes blurred as his head lolled to the side. Martin fell back into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin realizes he's not with the MJN Air crew anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did very light editing on this so I'm sorry if there are some mistakes I missed.

Martin’s eyes snapped awake. Shooting up, he automatically regretted it. His head swam as he flopped back into a pillow. He registered that it wasn’t his bed. He certainly didn’t own fur blankets. His eyes gazed around the ceiling. The rafters above him were like the attic he lived in. But it smelt like real pine and not cheap two-by-fours. Somewhere below him, the faint crackle of music could be heard. It had a slight metallic drawl like old record players. A fire threw light on the walls breaking up the darkness around Martin, but it too was somewhere below him. So, he had to be in a loft or on some second story.

Suddenly, thoughts tumbled back into his mind: the fire, the crash, the sky so far above him, a person taking his hand.

“Doug-!” His parch throat clenched up as he desperately hacked to loosen it. “Douglas! Ar-Arthur! Carolyn?” Martin’s head throbbed suddenly. Pressing his hand against his forehead, his fingers ran over bandages. Who wrapped up his injuries? “Douglas if you’re down there and not answering me, this isn’t funny! Are the others alright?”

Someone quickly climbed the stairs, and Martin pursed his lips. It certainly wasn’t his first officer.

At some point in this bloke’s life, he must have suffered a horrible accident. Deep scars raced down the center of the man’s face and trickled off at his shoulder. At the neckline of his shirt, the edges of more scars poked out. Patches of his hair were missing. But Martin could see that at one point, he was possibly a handsome man. The stranger dressed in a wool sweater to ward off the chill. Martin suddenly realized how cold he was. Glancing down, he was stark naked under the covers. He blushed and pulled the fur to his chest. Martin eased himself up to a sitting position and tried not to stare.

The man held up a hand, “Do not be afraid.”

“Is that how you start all of your conversations?” Martin bit his tongue. “Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t… Sorry.”

“I do most of the time,” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. A deep sadness lay there.

“Where am I? Where are my friends? The rest of my crew?”

“You were the only person I could find,” the man lumbered to the bedside table where a bowl full of water lay with a white cloth in it. Martin could tell the man’s speech was impaired. It sounded as if his tongue wasn’t his own and slightly too big for his mouth. “You’re in my home. I saw your plane crash and brought you back here. Luckily, your injuries weren’t grave. I can take you to the hospital in town once the storm passes.” Something told Martin that this man was highly educated probably more than Douglas. “When you crashed, the plane broke in two.”

Martin’s heart stopped, “In… in two?”

He pursed his lips and nodded gravely, “In the morning when there’s more light, I intend to search for it. But that terrain is far too dangerous at night with or without the snow.”

The blanket slipped from Martin’s fingers to his lap. Somewhere out there were his friends. Were they freezing? Or worse, were they even alive?

“Adam.”

Martin glanced to him, “Come again?”

“I am Adam.  What is your name?”

“Martin- _Captain_ Martin Crieff.”

“I washed you clothes. They’re drying near the fire downstairs. They are torn in places. You can borrow my things if you wish,” Adam sat on the edge of the bed with the wet cloth. He reached out and dabbed the bandage. The end appeared, and he slowly unraveled it from around Martin’s head. Adam’s hands though calloused were surprisingly gentle. Martin winced at the cold cloth swiping his apparent head wound.

Glancing up reluctantly, Martin gazed into Adam’s eyes as he worked. They were a shade of clear blue like the sky Martin loved so much but with flecks of green in them. He cleared his throat, “You’re being so kind to me. You don’t even know me. Why?”

“Because I am a terrible person. I have much to make up for.”

 _How honest_ , Martin leaned back against the headboard. That deep sadness in Adam’s eyes spread more across his face. Though Martin had met plenty of hardships in his own life, nothing should ever make a person look like that. It was soul shattering sadness like a constant wound that never healed and occasionally had salt rubbed in it.

But why was he a terrible person? People don’t just admit their flaws like that. _Normal_ people don’t live in cabins in the woods listening to old music in where Martin assumed was still Canada. He hadn’t seen many movies recently, but he knew the easiest way to die in the horror genre was to be alone. Then how come he wasn’t dead yet? Maybe this Adam guy was really a psychopath who was waiting for Martin to wake up to play some terrible knife cutting game! Oh God! Adam did look like that one bloke from that one movie. Was it called Kansas Chainsaw Massacre or something?

Martin realized the man was talking to him, “I’m sorry. What?”

“I’m not going to wrap your head wound yet. I think it needs to breathe some,” Adam gathered the bandage and rose from the bed. “It’s not a deep gash. Head injuries tend to bleed more.”

“Am I hurt anywhere else?” Martin couldn’t tell since he was sore everywhere.

Adam pointed to his chest, “You have some bruising from your seatbelts in the crash. But I couldn’t feel any cracked ribs. Your ankle is what you need to be gentle with.”

Martin furrowed his brow and lifted the blanket. White bandages wrapped tightly around his right ankle. He gazed up to Adam questioning what happened.

“Some debris had fallen on your legs. It swelled up like a sprain. Once again, you were very lucky to have no broken bones from what I can tell. But after the storm passes, I’ll take you to town and have a doctor examine you. Any hairline fractures are impossible for me to detect.” Adam flashed a kind smile wiping away all traces of the earlier gloom. “Are you hungry? I can bring you food and drink.”

Martin glanced passed him, “I wouldn’t mind getting out of this bed.”

Adam crossed to an impeccably carved beautiful oak dresser with brass handles. He pulled out a pair of pants made from some kind of animal. They were similar to the ones he was wearing. Marin assumed they were made by him. Adam grabbed a sweater and a coat from a wardrobe and laid them on the bed.

Martin nodded in approval, “Thank you for letting me borrow-“

Adam yanked off the blanket, and Martin squealed as the cold air hit his naked body. Taking the wounded pilot’s arms, Adam dressed him with care and buttoned him all the way up. He reached for the pants.

“What are you doing!?” Martin shrieked when Adam kneeled down by Martin’s knees.

His brow furrowed, and Adam quick pulled back like a scolded child, “I thought you would like assistance with your injuries. I’m sorry. I did not mean to invade your privacy! With you ankle…” He hung his head. “I will leave you alone.”

Automatically, Martin felt terrible. Adam only wanted to help out while Martin snapped at him. It’s not like it was some pretty girl sensually undressing him. They both were men. Why would it be such a big deal? “Hey, I really could use the help. I’m sorry. It’s just that I can be a bit… shy I guess is the best word in this situation.”

“What situation?”

“Naked… situations… But not like that! Oh God, I didn’t mean it in that way! No sexual ways at all!”

Adam laughed. For such a gruff looking guy, his laugh was quite charming, “I did not take your words in that way. You are funny, Captain Martin Crieff.”

A flush of heat spread up Martin’s neck, through his cheeks, and settled into his ears. No one ever thought he was funny. Douglas constantly put him down for his lack of wit.  But here was a stranger so openly laughing at his words. And it didn’t even feel like Adam was laughing _at_ him. Martin needed to play this right to not hurt his savior’s feelings once again. Trying to keep all his nerves out of his voice, he said, “I could use the help.” Martin held out his hand to welcome him back.

But Adam didn’t come closer. He eyed Martin’s hand as if he expected the fingers to lash out at him. This man was willing to touch people but apparently only if it was on his own terms. Trust issues were something that aren’t easily fixed. Martin realized that whatever terrible thing that happened to him must have devastated this man.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Martin was surprised by the steadiness in his own voice.

After another few moments of hesitation, Adam reached out and slid his fingers over Martin’s palm. Both men bashfully grinned at the contact not wanting to meet the other’s eyes. For Christ sakes, he was a captain! He shouldn’t be acting like some willy-nilly maid. Though, Martin realized, Adam’s calloused fingers were somehow comforting to him like in the plane wreckage. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at his own thoughts, he mentally chastised himself not seeing earlier that hand was Adam. Maybe he was as stupid as Douglas played him out to be…

Adam gently guided him to the edge of the bed, and together they wrangled pants and socks on Martin. The scarred man stepped back holding out his arms, “Try and stand.”

Martin’s entire body ached as he rose to his good leg. He never thought he would survive a plane crash and be able to stand hours later. Douglas always did say it’s better to be lucky than good any day. With the greatest care, he eased weight on the bad foot. A sharp pain shot up his calf, but it quickly dulled into a deep aching sensation. “I don’t believe I can walk on my own,” he admitted.

“If it would not embarrass you, I can carry you down. The stairs to the loft are a little steep. It is a flaw in my original design plan,” Adam held the wounded pilot steady.

Martin realized he was waiting for permission. He didn’t like the idea of being carried around like some maiden, but he did not want to be confined to some stranger’s bed. “Alright, fine. If we must. We don’t speak of his to anyone.”

“Who would we tell this to?”

“I don’t know. I’m glad Douglas isn’t here…”

Adam gently but with great ease lifted Martin bridal style, “You cried out for this Douglas. Is he your friend?”

“No,” he grumbled as they descended to the first floor.

“Boyfriend or life partner?”

“No! No! No! Never! Ew! Never!” Martin’s stomach churned at thought. “He’s my first officer, and a cruel, evil incarnate man whose greatest pleasure in life is to swindle people out of happiness!”

Adam chuckled again and sat him on a beautiful upholstered couch near a roaring fire, “My apologies.” He went into a kitchen area leaving Martin time to take in his surroundings. This cabin was clearly old, but parts had been renovated throughout time. It was big enough to be very cozy for one or two people. The entire bottom floor was an open living room and kitchen area with a bathroom door in the corner. Shelves lined the wall packed full of books. Some of them were older works with peeling bindings. Others were more recent like Harry Potter. Martin was never up to date with cultural events. If it didn’t have any relevance with aviation, it had never interested him. His original assumption about Adam being very educated seemed correct. Though a fire was being used as heat and light, old electric lamps hung from the ceiling and the walls. Some of the designs were antiques while a few had been replaced with newer L.E.D. bulbs. All the furniture looked hand made from the couch to the kitchen table. Whoever had crafted these pieces was highly skilled. While waiting for stew to reheat, Adam checked his email on a laptop.

In the corner near two double doors on the backside of the cabin was a crate. It was large enough to hold a foot rest or an ottoman in it. But in bright colors painted on the side was the logo for Devil Moon Designs, the company that the news had featured earlier that day. Martin whirled back around to Adam. The man was tweaking the logo on his computer.

“You’re…” Martin narrowed his eyes. “No. No, it can’t be true.”

“Hmm?” Adam snapped his head up from his work and smiled to him. “Did you say something?”

“Do you work for the company Devil Moon Designs?”

Adam beamed proudly like a child showing a parent what he drew that day in school, “I own it!”

“You… own it?”

“Yes, I make all the furniture out in my workshop and I ship them from the town,” he ladled out the stew and brought it to Martin. “I know that I look a certain way that can be… off-putting. I discovered that money makes it much easier to be accepted in this world.”

Martin scoffed, “God I know how true that is. About money I mean. And you’re not that, um, bad looking.”

“I am not handsome like you are.”

The beef stew caught in Martin’s throat. He could feel his ears burning at the compliment. No one ever called him handsome except his mother, and mothers are supposed to do that.

Adam didn’t seem to notice his distress, “I appreciate that people like my work. It gives me some purpose in my life.” He settled in a well-worn chair across from Martin. Picking up a knife and small block of wood, he carefully peeled off long curly strips. “What is your purpose in your life?”

“My purpose? That’s sort of an archaic way of phrasing what I do for a living.”

“I do not mean your daily job. I asked what your purpose in life is,” Adam shifted his gaze from his work to the flustered pilot.

“I don’t know,” he said, surprised by the sadness in his voice. “You would think that surviving a plane crash would give me some grand vision about the world and a straight path. I have always wanted to be a pilot and now I am.”

“Does it make you happy?”

“Most of the time when I’m not having to deal with Arthur’s shenanigans, Carolyn’s nagging, and Douglas’ schemes,” Martin frowned. “Though, they were the ones that gave me my only chance.” He pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. He really wouldn’t be where he was today without the MJN Air crew. Suddenly, a deep sadness set in, “Oh my God… I crashed GERTI. She’s broken.”

Adam looked very alarmed at Martin’s sudden change in attitude, “We will find your crew. I will search for them.”

“No, no, no, it’s not that. Even if they are alive—crossing my fingers and praying to the high heavens that they are and knock on wood—GERTI is the plane! It’s broken. No one else but Carolyn would ever take me. I will never be a pilot again. Without GERTI, there is no company! No MJN Air!”

Adam quickly laid his work on the table and panic set in, “It will be worked out. You cannot lose faith.” He rose from his seat and rounded the table to sit next to Martin. “You appear like you might cry. Please, do not cry. I have little knowledge about how to console people.”

“All that I’ve worked so hard for and I rammed it into a bloody cliff!” Martin slammed down the stew sloshing it onto the table. His entire body ached from the accident, and now his chest clenched at his realizations. “That’s my purpose, right there. To throw away my dream and kill my friends in the process!”

“No!” Adam boomed and seized his shoulders.

Martin, stunned, gawked at him.

“You have more purpose than that. I have learned that we are born for a reason. One must make themselves into the person they want to be. It will not fall onto them. If you wish to be a pilot, the opportunity will come again when you make it happen on your own merit.”

“What if I’m not good enough?” Martin whimpered as his vulnerability seeped from his body.

“Then make yourself better. If not, then accept the fate you have laid before you,” Adam released him. Rising up, he went to the kitchen to fetch a dish towel. But Adam paused briefly and glanced back, “You are not a killer, Captain Crieff.”

Several moments of silence settled between them.

“You’re the nicest millionaire I know,” Martin blurted out. “You’re the only millionaire I know, but you’re not like the ones you read about and see on T.V.”

Adam mopped up the stew from the table and handed the bowl back to Martin, “How do other millionaires act?”

“Not like you,” a faint smile spread across Martin’s face. Though his heart was still very heavy, Adam was right. “Sorry I made a mess.”

“I make messes all the time,” Adam took his place once again across from Martin. “You need rest. You’re still wounded.”

“Yes mother,” Martin grinned wider. “Thank you. For everything. I’m glad you’re not some evil, murdering psychopath.”

“I can pay for people to hide your body.”

Martin paled.

“It was a joke!” Adam sat up right. “I promise it was just a joke! I am sorry!”

A nervous laugh slipped out of Martin. Maybe Adam was a crazy guy who lived in the woods after all. Martin knew that until he found the others, this was going to be an interesting experience.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam analyzes Martin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little shorter. I'm still trying to figure out how exactly to get to the next point. Also, the last chapter had Martin analyzing Adam. I wanted a chapter where Adam did the same thing to Martin.

The snow mixed with the wind was blinding. A thin layer of ice lay on the rocks hidden beneath the white powder. Adam slammed a pick ax into the rock above his head to hoist himself up. The storm had not let up overnight. Instead, it intensified. It wasn’t quite blizzard standards, but it was close. He constantly needed to wipe the snow from his goggles, and the feeling had left his exposed nose and cheeks about twenty minutes ago. Usually the cold never bothered him. If anything, it annoyed him by slowing his trek.

Martin had slept through the night after dinner. He was still asleep when Adam left. Realizing the storm wasn’t going anywhere, Adam knew he had to at least try to find the rest of the pilot’s crew. He first radioed into town to tell the authorities about the crash. But with all the interference, he couldn’t understand the officers. They may or may not have received the message. Though he loved philosophy, Adam knew he needed to be a man of action now.

Which was why he was trying to scale the gentlest slope on the ridge. Armed with a pick ax in each hand, Adam reached the half-way point. Through the near white out conditions, he could barely make out the tree tops above him on the top of the ridge. A gaping hole where there had been trees before stood out. That had to be where the rest of the plane vanished.

A crack sounded. He gawked up in time to see the rock crumble around the ax’s hold. Adam tumbled down the slope rolling through the snow and ice. Sliding off the final rock, he crashed to the ground landing flat on his back. Chest searing, all the air was knocked out of him.

Gasping, he gazed up to where he had been moments before. His second ax was still embedded into the rock. There was no way he could climb this with just one, and his spare was back at the house. Hoping to return with good news for Martin, Adam despised the idea of making that man frown. He seemed so sad to begin with. But Adam had no choice but to turn back.

“Owie...” he groaned slowly sitting up. Once on his feet, Adam trudged to his snowmobile. 

“ _This is just another failure of yours_ ,” he heard a familiar voice through the wind. “ _Did you think this Martin would accept you if you helped him? Someone like you?”_

“Leave me,” Adam tugged his hood tighter around his ears. “I’ve grown weary of you, spirit. I want nothing more to be kind to Martin and return him home.”

_“Honestly? Or did you think he would stay by your side forever?”_

“Of course I didn’t.”

_“But you hoped for it. I know you.”_

“You don’t know me!” Adam hurled his ax towards the voice. “You’ve never known me! You never took the time! I was only ever a monster to you, but I surpassed you. You gave me life for which I am grateful. I was supposed to be your child!” Catching his breath, he stared into the wind. It was pointless to keep screaming at a corpse. Adam gazed towards his master’s grave. “I have much to do today and little time to talk.” Usually, he would not let the voice anger him when it came. But he had truly failed Martin. Retrieving his ax and revving up the snowmobile, he headed towards home.

He was surprised to see Martin up. Well, “up” was quite the right word. The ginger man sat at the bottom of the stairs grimacing and rubbing his lower back. Halfway up, the sheets of the bed were entangled around the railing.

A slight smirk twitched at the corner of Adam’s lips as he shrugged off his gear, “I told you in the note by the bed not to try those stairs yourself with your ankle.”

“I thought I had control,” Martin took hold of the railing and hoisted himself up to his good foot. He groaned, “Plus I really have to… you know.”

“No, I don’t. You have not finished your sentence,” Adam hung his jacket by the fire and glanced to him.

“There,” Martin mumbled and pointed to the bathroom.

“Ah. Do you need help?”

“No, I don’t need help!”

“Walking there?”

The agitation from Martin’s features faded into a plea. He nodded.

“I made you this last night,” Adam fetched a pair of crutches from the corner. “They were mine. If the rest of your wounds aren’t too serious, you can get around this way. I adjusted them to fit your height.”

A deep shade of purple crept up into Martin’s face as he stifled a small sound, “Let’s get one thing straight here. I am not short! The- the um… average height of a man is not much more than me! I mean my height! I am a man. A tall man in my own right!”

Adam cocked his head in confusion. Martin barely reached Adam’s nose. But he could see the offense he had caused. It was probably best to not bring this up again. “I apologize. You’re correct. You are indeed a man. Now try these out.” Handing over the crutches, Adam beamed at his handy worked. They fit Martin perfectly.

“Thanks,” mumbled Martin. Hesitating a moment, he glanced back at him, “I really do mean it. These are great. Sorry, sorry, I’m not trying to be ungrateful.”

Swelling more from the compliment, Adam didn’t mind the sullen tone from the other man, “I understand. I am not holding it against you.”

With a curt nod, Martin hobbled to the washroom and shut the door behind him. What an odd man. And that’s was saying something, because people were rarely odder than Adam. This Martin certainly wasn’t a confident man. Which struck Adam as queer, because Martin was a pilot. He had worked hard to get his position which was what he had always wanted. It was a technical and dangerous job that required a lot of skill. Why not be proud of it? Could there be abuse or bullying at work? This Douglas that kept coming up didn’t sound like the most supportive person. Though Martin denied them being friends, Adam had a sneaking suspicion that they cared for each other. If anything, Martin sought out his approval. He had already tried his best not to offend Adam. That was a physiological problem in its own right. Most people wanted to make others happy. Adam tried for his entire life to do it. But Martin seemed to function on trying to be perfect. What was this man’s childhood like? His family? His current life? But his obsessive tendencies for acme were apparently his downfall as well.

But Adam understood it. His master had perished before ever recognizing Adam’s abilities. With his physical appearance, no one tried to get close to him. Or because the way he talked, people perceived that he had some mental disability. It made him try harder to impress them through his carpentry. Maybe this Martin and he had more in common than he originally thought.

Martin emerged from the bathroom and hobbled towards the kitchen area. Adam had only seen that shade of ginger hair in television or in movies. Martin wasn’t traditionally attractive, but he was handsome. Though, everyone was more attractive to compared to Adam.

Martin eased himself into a chair at the kitchen table. Wincing, he lightly prodded at his ribs, “They don’t hurt as much as last night. Maybe I’m better off than I thought.”

“I am happy to hear that,” Adam reheated the breakfast he had made earlier that morning. Handing it off to Martin, the pilot happily devoured the food. Adam leaned back against the cabinets while waiting for a pot of tea to boil. He watched Martin carefully. Why wasn’t he running away? Martin talked to Adam as if he was a normal person. Adam was nowhere close to being normal.

But Martin was different. Though he was a bit snarky, he was kind. People were never kind, especially men. Men seemed to hate Adam the most. In Martin’s eyes was a deep kindness hidden away in uncertainty and the urge to please. Not for the last time, Adam wondered who in Martin’s past had made him hide himself so much.

As he finished his plate, Martin asked in a wavering voice, “Did you find them?” There was a shimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I am sorry,” Adam hung his head.

A strangled sound escaped Martin’s lips. Covering his mouth, he never tried to blink back the forming tears.

Adam realized what he just said, “No! I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t find them. The storm was far too strong. I couldn’t make it up the cliff.” He quickly added, “They could still be alright.”

A paused passed with only the sound of Martin trying to calm himself. His breathing slowed into a great sigh. Though, a weight still rested on his shoulders. “That’s good to know. At least you tried…”

“And I will try again when I can.”

The smallest grin appeared on Martin’s face, “I know you will.”

Adam’s cheeks were hot. He shot up knocking over the chair in the process. Flustered, he quickly put it right up again and hurried to the sink. He suddenly needed to wash his tea cup. Behind him, he heard Martin chuckle, but it wasn’t malicious.


End file.
